


Our Love Walks On Water

by emmadune



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Endgame Charmie, Friends With Benefits, Hurt/Comfort, I promise, Introspection, Light Angst, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Mutual Pining, Nostalgia, Open Relationships, Pining, Separations, True Love, it progressively gets better lmao, morally gray characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:20:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27121705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmadune/pseuds/emmadune
Summary: The summer in the mid-eighties somewhere in northern Italy was my summer of 2016 in Crema, a vibrant, breathtaking town where what I consider to be the event of my life was set in motion. You had found me, and yet tragically never got to keep.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Comments: 11
Kudos: 33





	1. Appassionato

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. Welcome. These are my true colors. I had roped you in with brainless fluff when in reality I am an angsty bastard and a Hurt/Comfort Apologist. 
> 
> I wrote this like a letter to Armie and I just felt way too committed to it to change the pronouns so I just carried on? Yeah. I wrote this for me. Because I'm awful.

Armie.

What we had was quite possibly pain of the most exquisite kind. The type that touches you deep and sets our soul ablaze. It is perhaps the very reason why the ache was akin to the feeling of home, but I have never thought of myself to be more content anywhere else but here. Down the line I had wondered if things would go differently. I had hoped, against my better judgement, that it would. I guess time really does change a man, but between us two, it can only change so much. It is, but not limited to, our explicable connection that ruins us to sustain but even more so when we try to cut the link. Whether or not that is unfortunate, I have yet to decide, though one may argue that deep down, we all know the truth. 

For years I had been fixated on Call Me By Your Name; had claimed it in my heart of hearts that it was mine to play. That much, I hadn’t been mistaken over, but as intense as my focus had been it still flew over my head just how immensely the experience might turn my life upside down. The summer in the mid-eighties somewhere in northern Italy was my summer of 2016 in Crema, a vibrant, breathtaking town where what I consider to be the event of my life was set in motion. You had found me, and yet tragically never got to keep. 

I had arrived earlier than most in Italy in preparation for the role. Of course I had known you. My being young, new, and inexperienced had led me to overcompensate, though still to this day I can say that no amount of extensive research can sufficiently prepare a person to meet you. I had heard you before I saw you; boisterous and animated as you interrupted my piano lesson, yet at the same time polite and accommodating as you greet me and my teacher. Your pictures didn’t do you justice. They never do. I was awestruck at the sight of you. My brain stuttered as it reconciled the image in my head and the towering man in front of me. You had me impressed with a smile, your name, and a question. All I could think of after that was how I could even amount to the force you bring with your presence. 

The two of us had never been difficult. We established that rather quickly into knowing each other. Us being the only English speaking people fixed us on each other’s side for the first couple of days, and when the time came that Luca had wanted us to get rid of our inhibitions coming into the shooting, there hardly had been any to shake off. I had been comfortable enough around you to know that you will keep a guiding hand hovering over me as I stumble through our work. How naive of me to allow my guards down when your skin finally touched mine. 

It didn’t happen at once. I didn’t meet your eyes in the room where you barged in and saw the rest of my life in front of me, nor did it happen when we made out for the first time and Luca walked away as he found that he had nothing to worry about regarding our dynamic. It happened gradually, over the course of our filming, and the excruciating part of it was that everyone had seen all of the signs and shifts, miniscule or massive, and predicted exactly where things were going. I had been too young to recognize the dangerous plummet that I was set on, and you had been mature enough to carry the consequences on my behalf. 

At first I had thought that the way I was consumed by my emotions during the filming had been due to it being my first major opportunity. The realization happened upon me one box crossed after the other. As I had brought Elio to life I should’ve seen things for what they were. His insights could’ve been as good as mine, though as we all know from the book that they hadn’t been that collected in the first place. Yet still I had overlooked all the signs. In hindsight, I doubt that a full awareness of the situation would result in anything different. 

The way Elio and myself blurred together had mirrored the exact same way that you had slipped comfortably as Oliver. His walk and his talk had been yours and he had been you so perfectly that Luca had taken the time of his day to sit us down in his beautiful home. One of the things I adored about him was his bluntness. So unapologetic and crude. I had been on my way back to the patio when I overheard your conversation. Years past since then, I am almost completely certain that he had intended it to be so. 

“What would she have said?” Luca questioned, his tone so piercing that it had fixed me on my spot behind his massive plant. 

I had been scared to take a glance at you, but then you only scoffed. Unflinching. It didn’t even throw you off. You flicked the end of your cigarette and the ashes dropped. It took a long drag and a puff for your answer to come. 

“We’re not restrictive like _that._ For a bit of time now.” You had said. 

“She is your wife.” Luca pointed out. He didn’t sound judging. In fact, both of you had been seemingly too passive for people discussing a crack in a marriage. 

You hadn’t made a sound of protest, but still flatly added “She is the mother of my children.” 

“So it doesn’t matter?” 

“It should.” 

Finally, Luca reacted. “I don’t see it at all, Armand.” 

It didn’t take a while before that conversation had been opened to me, though the event that led to it was quite a display. Our schedule followed the chronological events of the film, and with every scene we made it became increasingly obvious that we would be done shortly after. It didn't sit right with us. You had been irate even on the slightest occurrences and I had been tearing up far sooner than the script demanded. Of course everyone knew by then. Us two, on the other hand, hadn’t touched the subject yet. We had feasted on the blessing that was our found paradise uncaring that it wasn’t ours to keep, and when the knock came on the door for it to be returned we had, in futile attempts, barricaded against the reclamation. You, with your fury and resistance and myself, with pleas to the gods I hadn’t paid mind to, echoing Elio who had brought me there, for the summer to never end. 

Equally, it had been luck and doom that us and the characters we portrayed had been as good as being the same people. Luca hadn’t heavily dwelled on the peach scene in the book, but the way it unfolded had been too transformative to pass on. I had again been overcome by my emotions that my tears had spilled ahead of the intended pacing. I muttered a curt apology, somewhat prepared to hear a “cut” but it never came. You didn’t miss a beat when you gathered me in your arms, and it told me that the scene will continue. It hadn’t been just Elio and Oliver with their hearts wide open in the attic on that day, but at that point it had been accepted that they and us were one and the same, and to separate those would call for the removal of the rawness of our scenes. 

Smoking was a habit I picked up during the filming. My mother had disapproved greatly of that, but if she knew half of the things that tensed me to the point of lighting one after the other, I would say it would’ve been the least of her worries. You never said a thing. What I held back from the world was that it wasn’t me who had found out that you liked to smoke in the attic of the villa where we filmed, but rather it was you who had approached me where I sat in front of the piano, and just like you did on the first day I had seen you, you took it upon yourself to introduce a side of you that was entirely new to us both. 

It was you who took me to the attic. You already had a pack in your hand and a lighter when you cocked your head to the side to signal me to follow. I had wanted to protest. There had been at least a dozen of excuses at the tip of my tongue, but then you looked back over your shoulder, just enough for a view of your side profile, and as little as that had been I knew something would be different if I took the flight of stairs with you. 

You were never one to waste time. As soon as we were on the landing you had a stick lit up and passed me my own, which I uncharacteristically refused and regretted immediately. It would’ve been better to have one between my fingers rather than have my hands on my sides as I fidgeted. 

“Been in love before?” You asked, and the way your eyes shone told me you were teasing. 

Maybe you had intended for it to be good natured so I would be more at ease. Instead, I had felt offended. I glared momentarily before shifting my gaze elsewhere until I found a spot where I could sit. 

“What’s bringing this on?” I didn’t meet your eyes and kept mine trained on the floor. At that point, you had known all my tells, but I took any form of cover that I could. 

You spared me when you walked to the other side of the room, but barely because you were relentless to bring it to the surface. “You know what,” 

I scoffed, humorless but the laugh had been there. “Are we rehearsing? You never talk like that.” 

“It’s not exclusively on film anymore.” 

The way you spoke had successfully got me to look at you, and then I was gone. “You can’t just say things like that.” 

“We never say anything, that’s the point.” You replied, then paused to take a long drag. “But it’s not a secret, Timmy. We can’t keep turning a blind eye on this.” 

_Speak for yourself,_ I wanted to snap. Instead, I had said “What are you suggesting?” 

“Well, I didn’t think that far.” 

That made me laugh. It sounded more like you, finally, and I felt relieved even though it lasted me only for a moment. “Armie,” I sighed, then heard the adoration in my voice and felt cold all over. 

You only smiled at me though, then returned it with the same reverence that was only then occurring to me “Timmy,”

Had we always sounded like that? With time, I had heard from others that it has indeed always been like that. And from there on I had heard even more stories of how not once was it ever subtle between us, no matter that we had never addressed it. But at that moment, I had only been terrified. Not for my career. It had been the least of my problems. Not of my reputation. I had been terrified because with only my name you had set me up to answer the question you opened with. I had never been in love. Not in its true sense. You would’ve been the first, and no words can capture how utterly unprepared I was for that. 

Though you had let me off easy that night, the shift in our dynamic couldn’t have been more obvious in the days that followed. We had been messing up too often in the scenes that could’ve been carried out so easily if we weren’t so caught up on the fact that everything that had made our core come to life in flames was slipping through our fingertips like sand scooped from the shore. Bergamo had been the toughest. Scenes can easily be manipulated so they may look a certain way through the screen. What everyone failed to mention to me was that nothing would prove more difficult than to separate the emotions of your characters to yourself when they’re of the same nature and intensity. 

The side of my hand ached after I slammed it on the wall where you had pressed me against, frustrated and burned out. You stared off at a distance, your jaw clenched tightly. I had no way of reading your thoughts when you decided to shut them off and away from me. I wanted to return to the bricks and slam my fist one more time if it could distract me from the pain that had gripped my chest. 

“Look,” Luca huffed loudly, equally irritated with our performance and barely stopping himself from lashing out. “It will only be a couple of days, before there’s _nothing._ None of this-” he waved around, vaguely, but we got the point. “-and you will turn your backs on Oliver and Elio. Holding back on the remaining moments before goodbye is never a good way to leave.” 

When we got the shot that Luca wanted, I hadn’t made an effort to hide the tears that gathered in my eyes. Dejected, I strayed away from the set and out to the quiet streets that the production team had blocked. Easily, I had found my way back to the fountain and there along with the water cascading from its marbles I had let my tears fall and if they dropped right inside I could pretend that they never came from me. 

You fetched me after a respectable amount of time that I had been certain you kept track of to make sure that you will not walk in at a moment where I would only drive you out. The way my eyes had stung after I calmed down made me conscious that there would be no denying of my weeping, but I hadn’t intended to. I looked up to you and you took a seat on my side. All that had pinned me to resist you had released their grip and I went immediately into your space and buried my nose on the side of your neck. You shifted and turned your body towards me, so reminiscent your response to when my walls first came crashing down that I couldn’t help myself anymore. 

“Oliver,” I had called out, and under my palm I felt your heart skip and restart frantically in your chest. 

_“Oliver,”_ you replied the way one does to dismiss doubts. 

“Elio,” I followed your lead and corrected myself. 

You had nudged me to move and I barely showed any willingness to detach myself against the side of your neck, but you had been insistent. Without the cover I was made keenly aware that I am laid bare with my heart on my sleeve, and even though you had done nothing but respond positively my eyes still stung from bracing myself against your scrutiny. 

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled as I turned my face away. You caught my chin and my tears fell just in time for the droplets to slide on the side of your thumb. 

“For?” You prompted, and I grumbled in protest that even though you know what for you were still making me say it. “Tell me,” 

I shrugged you off until you dropped your hand over your knee. “Why?” Then, I remembered. “She will be here in a few.” 

“That’s why I need to know.” 

“But you already know.” 

We held each other’s gaze, and your conviction told me that this will end in no other outcome than me offering my heart in my palms for you to devour. 

“I have,” I sighed and pulled at my hair, then turned on my heels and spun back. “What you asked. In the attic. I _have._ Okay?” 

“Not quite,” you had insisted as you rose to your feet. 

I took a few steps back that you covered easily until I was back in your hands and crumbled not long after. 

“I have, too.” You confessed, but it did not stop me from sobbing helplessly. 

That night I had found exactly what set me apart from Elio and the knowledge had helped me navigate the remaining days. He had stood in front of a raging fire and realized quickly that it would not consume him if he burned with it. In my place, I had aimlessly tried to keep the fire contained to suffocate it and as a result I had sustained more burns and blisters than I came in with. Where we were exactly alike; the list goes on. 

I had three knocks disturbing my room way past midnight, and though I knew right away who it was I still asked “Who is it?” 

_Say it,_ I had dared in my head. Claim it in a way I was too cowardly to do and let me know about the freefall I was already calculating the shock for. 

“Armie,” you had announced, knowing me as fully as someone who has touched my soul and knew it in his own. 

The door swung open, in that inconspicuous hotel room, we had given to each other and from one another we had received, and no matter the time that will eventually flash before our eyes, us and our exchange will forever remain young in the pages of the parallel life we had lived if only to experience it once. 

Harper had liked me on the very first meeting. Ford, too, eventually. You told me it was surprising because they’re reserved and shy more often than not. Elizabeth was pleasant. _Liz,_ she’d correct gently. She smiled and engaged everyone in a small talk. As opposed to you being easily charismatic, she had been an imposing figure; assertive and sure of herself. We came face to face and just like how she did with everyone else, jovially, she had called out my name and introduced herself as she slid to your side where unbeknownst to her I had laid and slept soundly the night before. 

My being an actor has never in my life come to my rescue in any occasion that I needed to lie. I had forced my smiles and laughter while she had assimilated into our group. I played terribly the role of a host alongside Luca and all the other actors that we worked with. More than anyone, I knew you had been most aware of my discomfort and trepidation and as a response you had put yourself between her and myself. 

I wasn’t wrong in my confidence that I understood Elio, but to my surprise I realized that I only do to a certain extent. When I had come face to face with your family and the life you would be returning to in the States after our time together, I had been forced to expand my knowledge of Elio who had loved in silence; met in the middle, but always kept at a distance. 

Esther found me smoking away from the group. She’d always been perceptive, though I found that I had very little reservations about that. “Tout va bien?”

_Ça va,_ I would’ve answered, but our eyes met and I realized she’d only asked to show that she sympathized. _._

I had been most thankful for Esther’s friendship. I hadn’t confided in her, and she never made me. Instead, in all the times I had found my throat drying while my heart drowned, she’d extend a hand or offer her company and it hadn’t been so terrible ever since. 

Eventually, I had learned to live with it. I had adapted to coexisting alongside the reality that had a different facet than what I had in my dream, and in our scenes I had found the outlet where I could let the desires of my heart run free. I had known the entire time how the situation had put you in such a difficult position, but I hardly paid mind to it when I myself barely had any room to nurse my own sorrow. 

You never tried to put in a lot of effort in hiding that your marriage hadn’t been holding up as perfectly as it looked in pictures and neither did Liz, though between the two of you she had more fight in her to keep everything together should anyone turned to look. Still, there had been good days where you had been playful and easy around each other, and I counted on those to stop me from praying for something I could never have. The way her presence erected a wall between us had been such a perfect ploy for all. You and I hadn’t lingered dangerously on edge and you two got the opportunity to play the Hollywood rarity of a loving man and wife. I didn’t have the courage to look around, but I’d bet everyone had released a sigh of relief along mine, shaky as that was. 

Liz was supposed to be in Italy for long, but something between the two of you transpired and she’d suddenly packed her bags and with her your daughter. It had sent all of us in a silent panic, knowing it wasn’t our place to intrude but adamantly wishing someone would have the guts to stand up and collect the two of you. That, to my chagrin, had been me. Maybe I had enough prosecco to successfully convince myself that I had a say in it. Maybe I’d only decided that I could only take so much and I’ve had enough at that point. 

I had gone to her instead of you. I felt your glare burning at the back of my head and did not heed your fury. Following Liz had led us to the parking lot of the restaurant where the party was held. I didn’t plan anything beyond going after her for the sake of it, but with her it didn’t really matter. 

“This is our save-the-relationship baby.” Liz leaned against a streetlight and looked up to the nightsky, much calmer then after she’d stalked out of the celebration. 

Scandalized, I whipped my head to my side where she stood. “How could you call it that?” I exclaimed. A part of me broke that a mother would say that of her child. 

“Timmy,” Liz was unfazed, but she wore a somber curve on the corners of her lips. “One day you’ll find that calling things for what they are will save your heart in the long run.”

I had stayed with her and we’d talked. It thankfully had nothing to do with you, or myself, or anything within the vicinity for that matter. After listening to her, I found that there’s hardly any trouble with reconciling her physical image to her personal musings. She’s driven and ambitious. It wasn’t like I hadn’t known that, but she confirmed it rather strongly as she told me about her work and passion. Somewhere along those lines she’d mentioned Harper and your then unborn son, and without a mention of you she’d told me all about her hopes and dreams for them in the future. I wouldn’t say that we were friends, or even _friendly_ to one another, but misery loves company, and what was the one thing we had in common but that? My staying behind had done nothing, and I frankly had intended nothing out of it, and so the following day she’d boarded the first plane out of Italy. 

That was already exhausting enough for me. You had a different opinion, though. On the night that your child and wife had left, you were already on the doorstep of another man - _myself_ \- and you staying there had undoubtedly been on me. 

“We’ve been exploring this open marriage for a while now.” You had told me as you crossed my room to open the doors to the balcony. “She had more success in that than me, but that’s not to say I haven’t done anything.” 

I followed you to that side of the room but did not step out. You barely glanced at me over your shoulder, but it had been enough encouragement for you to know that I’d listen for you to continue. 

“I’d met and dated a few, and so did she. We always knew.” Finally, you turned, but you leaned back against the railing instead of walking inside towards me. “She hadn’t been happy about you and me, though.” 

I had been uncomfortable over the discussion. Though you’d told me and I had an idea beforehand that you two had an open marriage, it didn’t sit right with me that you were already negotiating my place when we had barely even touched the subject ourselves. 

“I’m sorry that my gender caused your marriage such an inconvenience.”

“It’s not that.” 

I closed my eyes and turned away, taking a deep breath so I don’t throw you out of my room in a fit. 

“Timmy,” you called, resigned. “Give us some credit. It’s not _that._ Liz wasn’t upset because you’re a man. It’s because I’m in love with you.” 

_Oh you son of a bitch,_ I had thought. I kept my eyes tightly shut and focused on my attempt to dull the sudden clench in my chest. “What do you want from me?” 

The next deep breath I took was filled with the familiar scent of your cologne and it told me of your proximity. When I opened my eyes, you met my gaze and held it as your hands rose to cradle my face tenderly. “To love you. To be with you,” you replied. 

“But _I_ can’t be with you.” I pointed out, and you conceded with your silence. 

“You shouldn’t be with me.” You released your hold of my cheeks and took a couple of paces to the opposite direction. “I shouldn’t be _all_ that there is for you.” 

Was that ever for me to decide? Then and now my answer would be no. My entire life had been a slow and steady rising up to the moment that we would meet only for you and me to be asymptotes that can only come closer and closer but never touch. _Zwischen immer und nie._ How much more of this am I supposed to take? 

“We took playing these goddamned fools to a whole other level.” I cursed angrily as I sat on my bed and put my head in my hands. 

“I didn’t mean to be something you regret forever.” 

“You? My regret?” I turned my head towards you and allowed you to look at the ripples in my eyes from the cracking of my broken heart. “It doesn’t have to be that, but that’s all you’re willing to give to me.” 

I knew I had struck it exactly with that, and you looking down only gave it away further. Yet, when I had seen your mouth take shape of an apology I had stopped you and knew that I would much rather rip my own heart to shreds once more than to hear how sorry you were that you’d come into my life. It wasn’t that. It will never be that, Armie. You, forever, are my heaven, and all that had dimmed and blinded me were merely weather. Nothing I couldn’t handle and would much prefer than to never be with you at all. 

You had more protest in you but I stood and had none of it and more of you. It wasn’t hard to coax you to drop everything and come to my bed upon my invitation. I had expected it to feel as desperate as the last time that we had enjoyed each other’s bodies and had been pleasantly surprised that it had transformed into an all consuming passion that had you gasping my name like prayer and myself rising off the bed in offering to you. 

Once we had gotten that out of the way, we had been much kinder to one another as we wrapped up. There were more down the line; the promotion, the award shows, but at that moment they were too far into the future to truly concern us. I had taken what little I could out of us and found that with the right person it would be more than enough. And it was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually happy ending, and trying its best to be canon, but clearly I don't have a very good grasp of the timeline. If you do know a post that have a compilation of some big moments between these two, please drop them. I promise you would be saving this fic big time.


	2. Senza

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She's alive!
> 
> Yes, in fact, I am, and I did not abandon this fic. Too many things happened, university at the foremost of that. Also, I had found a kitten and adopted it, against my better judgment because my living space simply is not it, also because I fly between literal continents.

All that followed was glorious. And my, but you were silly, outrageous, bold. I had only then knew of the feeling that everyone liked to talk about when they first found the person who moved their souls. You had loved me and meant it with every bit of yourself. I loved how you loved me, and I loved myself best when loved by you. I was at the top of the world, and yet still what had not been less than ideal was who I became in loving you. Perhaps I was too young, and that in itself did not allow for enough maturity to handle things with half the composure that you did. Of course I would never embarrass you with a scene in public, but I was still a sorry excuse for a pokerface. I could not, if it was the last thing I would do, maintain my enthusiasm at the mention of your wife. 

The next time we’d seen each other was following the wrapping up of the filming. Pregnant, and cold as steel, she’d looked at me in the eyes, and said only “I control the narrative. He is, after all,  _ my _ husband.” 

With my jaw clenched, I nodded my agreement. Later that day you had fetched me from my room and took me around town one last time before we returned to the States. We laid together and were far too consumed by it to even attempt to convince ourselves that it would be over just like that. 

Still, I hadn’t been strong enough to resist the urge. I brought it up shortly after we flew back and you went out of your way to meet me in New York. We were reasonably distanced with the work lined up for us, but you even more so with the commotion surrounding your family and the tension between you and Liz. I would be the first to admit that it was greed and only that that gave me the courage to linger in your life despite it all. And it was greed still that made me want to tell on your wife, though with all the rights she had to feel how she did, to attain validation from you whose words and touch I would eat up dazedly even if the world burned to ashes around us. 

“She said that?” You did not hide your disgruntlement. Hearing your fierce protectiveness over me had pleased me greatly. 

“She said that.” I confirmed, keeping my eyes trained on you to catch any shift that would confirm or dispute my greatest fear regarding where you truly stood. “And you? What do you want?” 

Your brows furrowed subtly as you cocked your head to the side. You thought that was a concern long resolved. “You know it’s you.” 

It was the correct answer, but insufficient in that it didn’t answer what I truly wanted to know. “Am I the one-” 

“Oh, fuck it all. It’s  _ only _ you. How could you still doubt me?” 

We watched each other for a dragging moment until you assumed I relented when I gave a timid smile. You pulled me in and kissed me tenderly on my temples, breathed deeply into my hair and kept me in your arms until a decent amount of time had passed and the coast had seemingly cleared. I had let you, and decided that then I must settle for not knowing the answer on whether I was truly your person, and you not knowing the actual question. I had found, in the months that followed, that it would only be as good as our ability to keep our demons at bay. 

The birth of your son flipped something that allowed my reality to take the form of my greatest fear. I had understood it for what it was, of course, but it did not take longer than the first couple of months for me to realize that it would only go downhill for me from there. You had been so smitten and taken by Ford that for the first time since our affair I had truly felt like the intruder in your lives; the third party, the homewrecker. It had sent me into panic one night and it only led me to spiral for the next couple of weeks. It was our first falling out, and had it stopped there, I can almost confidently say that you and I wouldn’t devastate me anymore in the future. 

Still, we could never seem to stray too far to be lost. After months of awkwardly reverting back and forth due to our commitment to the movie, we geared for its general release. Luca could tell, simply because he is who he is, and though he did not explicitly tell us what to do, he made sure to allow us enough time to ease into a working relationship. 

As the general theme of our story, we had inevitably fallen back to each other faster than we could sort our baggage. We both had the security blanket of our duty to carry the film throughout promotion as was required of us without getting consumed by the guilt of what we had been doing behind closed doors. Though the menacing threat of our unresolved problems remained looming over our heads, they all collectively paled in comparison to the liberation that we had felt during the press tour. You had boldly and publicly declared your sentiments, and you had repeatedly announced your love for me, vague as it had been so we could safely get away with them when needed. I loved and cherished every moment of it; watched and rewatched just so I could listen to your devotion to me, no matter my awareness of how fickle it was. 

I had expected then that Liz wouldn’t make things easy for us, and yet it did not matter when it came down to it. She had been out with us and had been seen with us, but one thing I counted towards my own victory was that all those times it had only been about you and me. The rest were simply details, as unfortunate as some of it were. Perhaps the continuous clamor for the film had been enough consolation to appease the gods and all their instruments from taking our own piece of heaven. Well, that, and the fact that we had both been thrown into a slew of projects to even worry of one more complication rather than enjoying it for what it was. 

But of course, eventually, people would talk. For such a massive community, Hollywood does know how to keep a secret, but it keeps it buzzing enough to grip people by the neck and crush them at any point it finds convenient. With how you and I had been in our appearances, interviews and red carpets, it was no longer a question if we were a thing. True to itself, Hollywood smiled shrewdly with lips shut tight, and we’d known the eyes on us would tell at the slightest provocation. For all that you’ve said and done,  _ that _ was your greatest fear. It was ironic, especially that the world knew you’ve brought it to yourself, but I appreciated your dread on my behalf, for my only taking off career, for my reputation, for my sanity. 

The damage control had begun then. It had been an insistent demand. Liz was adamant over it as well. And so you were forced into a carefully moderated content - though you still manage to slip something in more frequently than our team would like - and I into a crowd-pleasing relationship with my co-star and good friend. 

It was a ground of tension for us when we’d realized that I, too, would want to explore my options outside our relationship. It had never once crossed my mind before, but perhaps my own coming of age caught up to me and I had yearned to confirm myself if what we had was only a youthful blast of infatuation that I had been too attached to to let go. We knew, logically, that it was only fair to allow me the free reins, but no one said love makes sense. If anything, love made a fool of us all, and in my most vindictive night following a fight I had indeed pursued the relationship, and got the answer I had wanted. 

The price I paid was not worth it, but it had to be learned. I had kept it from you for a month as it went on, and on one night that we had been feeling particularly sadistic towards one another I had blurted my confession as you were shooting me down with explanations after explanations of why you were breaking your promises to me once again. You put the phone down and did not bother with even a sound of your breath to my line for two weeks, no matter how much I called and messaged. It had been the worst I had ever felt. 

“Tout va bien?” Lily found me smoking out in the balcony, curled on the couch set up against the railing. There were people around and it was easier to maintain discretion this way. Her choice also hinted at me that she knew more than she let on, but kind enough to spare me the scandal. 

I rolled my eyes and groaned loudly. It had reminded me too closely of Esther when she’d found me, and in a similar situation, no less. “Ne demande pas à nouveau.” I responded quite heatedly. 

She didn’t answer, but only mouthed  _ okay _ with mocking wide eyes before lighting her own stick. “Armie?” She caught herself, exclaiming “Sans poser de questions. Armie.” 

That made me laugh. “Tu crois?” 

“Je pense que c’est un bâtard.” 

“Je sais que c’est un bâtard.” 

“Et toi aussi.” 

I looked at her, gave her a once over, and she leaned back, letting me. “J’avais raison.” I took a long drag before continuing. “Je l’aime.” 

She looked at me like I was losing my mind. She wouldn’t be wrong, honestly. “Nous savons tous.” She shook her head at me, fondly. “S’excuser.” 

I looked at her, fully meaning it, then said “Je suis désolée.” 

To my surprise, she struck me, taken aback and reprimanding. “Merci, mais c’est non. Pas à moi. Armie.” 

I was on a plane the moment I had a couple of days off. It was good that I had received the message from our team first before I arrived at your set only to embarrass myself. Liz had been there, and without the children. That was worth noting, because if so then it meant that it had only been the two of you, which shouldn’t have stomped on my already broken heart like it did, but I had no clue of what you had elected to do in my absence, and simultaneously I realized how to us two weeks were much too big of a time frame to miss. Instead, I booked a hotel and texted you my room. You finally responded after the days of utter silence, and all you had to say was your rejection. 

_ Not now, _ your message read. 

I knew for a fact that I had been fuming first, but then when I opened my mouth to shout all that came out was a piercing cry, and my tears were quick to follow. 

It took two entire days before I had collected myself enough to face the world again, even if I knew no one would really see me. Then, at the crack of dawn, I was woken up first by my ringing phone and finally the banging on the door. At first I had thought to ignore you, but then rapidly realized that it’ll only make things worse than they were, and I wasn’t really looking forward to that, especially given my own state at the time. 

“I’m sorry,” I said as I held the door open, disheveled from sleep and exhausted from my own grieving. 

You seem to have come around by then too. You pushed me inside the hotel room with your palm flat on my chest then kicked the door close behind. “I’m sorry too,” you mumbled as you gathered me in an embrace. 

“What does this mean?” I asked right away, choosing to rip off the bandaid in an instant than drag my misery a second longer. 

“I just wanna be over this,” you replied, sounding as tired as you looked. “The part where you want to try other people, I understand, but hiding it from me? What the fuck was that?” 

Though I had been sure I was entitled to my anger, I still bowed my head sheepishly as I answered “I don’t want it.” 

You frowned, confused. 

“I’m not doing it again. I didn’t like it.” The way you released a loud sigh of relief spurred me on further. “I love you.” 

There it was; your smile, the shine in your eyes, your skin on mine. “Personally, I  _ hated _ it.” 

“Did you hate me?” 

“I could never hate you.” 

“Even if-” 

“Timmy,” you silenced me with a brief kiss. “I’d forgive you for anything.” 

“Anything?” I prompted.

“Yes, anything,” you confirmed. 

“I would too.” I promised. 

You smiled, and I returned it. It was our own vow, and it did get tested with time, yet wonderfully stuck out no matter what. That bit at least I was proud of. 

I remember that night particularly because I noted that I had never truly understood where you were coming from when you fought me against pursuing relationships with other people. Every caress ended in a grip, every kiss in a bite. I had marks and bruises blooming where you’d touched me even before we’d finished. It was exhilarating, but to you it was a feat, and the way you’d taken me over and over only told me that it won’t be better than this.

I like to refer to it as a reset. I had known better and you had managed to fully move past my wobbly attempt at understanding myself. Though more secured, we couldn’t help all the work barriers that had set us apart, along with the pressure on both our ends to keep up appearances. I had been terrible, something you had teased me endlessly for, and you had been too good, something that had twisted my gut every single time. I never cared to ask how come it was only you and Liz that time we had made up, and down the line it stopped to matter. Only months later did you tell me that it had been because you two had considered returning to being exclusive. It had been too long for me to take offense, and in hindsight I had agreed that it was better kept away from me, lest I would’ve probably done another thing I’d regret. 

Strangely - and I know I had never told you this before - the first time I had been absolutely certain that I will never again come across a man who could make me feel even a quarter of what you had was when I first saw you on stage for Straight White Men, as ironic as that was. I had watched you many other times other than that, but it had struck me only then. I almost felt embarrassed that I had these thoughts, these  _ realizations, _ which I recognized right then for what they were, in a theater full of people, a lot of whom already recognized me when I came by. You took that in stride. That was always your thing, though by then I was already worried that you simply weren't looking ahead, and once these moments of liberation demanded their dues you would once again close up and blow over. 

It did not come. We had enjoyed a good amount of peace and stability, and that alone should have already warned me, but clearly I just never seem to learn the pattern. Every couple has their own, recurring fight. Ours just happen to be me competing for your time against your children and wife. It’s always a form of that or another, which sometimes escalated far beyond what we were prepared to deal with. It was only natural that I had felt the way I did, but it also meant that I was tearing a family apart, and no matter that it had been us two on it with Liz’s knowledge the fact still remained. 

“Nursing a broken heart?” Flo walked up to me, still in her heavy gown and dramatically toting her umbrella. 

I looked up to her and laughed, knowing I had been caught brooding under a tree shade on a picnic blanket like an abandoned Victorian lad. “So we just decide to jump on  _ that  _ conclusion?” 

Flo looked me up and down, then flopped down to my side and made an exaggeratedly pouting face. “You’re always-” she added her shoulder slumping to the visuals. 

“What if my cat is just sick?” 

“Is your cat sick?” 

Well… “I don’t have a cat.” 

Flo laughed and poked me with her umbrella. “Aren’t you just delightful,” 

“It’s been said,” I teased, though evidently I wasn’t likely to get away with it. 

“I’m just concerned, is all.” 

“You haven’t talked to Saoirse?” 

“What do you think she still has to say? She just sighs at this point.” 

That one time, I truly laughed. “Then you already know.” 

“Oh, for God’s sake, the entire world already knows. They just refuse to believe it.” Flo plucked out a candy from her skirt, extending one stick to me. I was too taken aback that I accepted, fiddling with it as she continued. “I’m worried, Tim, seriously. You seem really hurt, enough that it breaks our hearts, too.”    
  


She wasn’t asking me for anything. It was just a message she wanted me to receive. When I thought of it that night in my room, I had slowly put to perspective the extent that I had endured. Had I suffered more than I rejoiced? Am I only holding on to the memory of the blaze in my mind when it had been reduced to cinders in my hands all this time? It was a ridiculous time, but you had answered my call anyway. 

“What will become of me? A year from now, five, ten?” I asked, cocooned in my blanket with half my face hidden. You didn’t need the rest of it to read my mind. 

“Only what you want to be,” you answered flatly. 

I had never once dreamt to become an accessory to a marriage as a last ditch attempt to keep it intact, but there you go. “And you? What will become of you?” 

“Braver, I hope.” You held my gaze and bared yourself in that rare way that you only allow for the most vulnerable of times. I believed it, and that had been good enough for the time being. 

It took a while. We had pushed and pulled more times than we had sat down and settled. The extent of measures that we needed to take for one date hadn’t felt too much until it did, until we only had a day or two to spare and we spent half of it avoiding everyone rather than being together. We had admitted to ourselves at some point that meetings like that had turned more into an inconvenience than a date, which was why we decided to stay cooped up indoors instead. It wasn’t the worst alternative, but we could really use a different activity. 

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Saoirse once told me, blunt and cold. 

We had been hanging out while she was still in town, and I’d stayed behind with her until it was time for her to go before I went to meet you. She had witnessed all that we had to consider before seeing each other, and as one of my closest friends in the business I did not hesitate to reflect my fears as we went. 

“Is that what I am?” I asked her, goading. 

Saoirse did not take a pause to think it over. “Both of you are.” She met my eyes again, then continued “It’s lonelier, because you two can have  _ more, _ it’s just you never try.” 

I stared, speechless. 

“Timmy, come on. You’re young, and already the most promising actor of this generation - don’t say a word, you know you’re considered that.” She stopped only to glare at me until she’s assured of my submission. “You can have  _ anyone, _ literally. And him? He could do better. He could treat you better. You  _ know _ that.” 

I looked back at her, defiant, then smiled. “You said I can have more.” 

“Yes.” 

“Just  _ anyone  _ isn’t more. It’s only settling.” 

By the time I was in your arms the next day, I had forgotten all about it. You were always different in L.A, more relaxed, more at ease. You moved there and around so fluidly and it let me know that you belong well and truly to this landscape that you loved so much. It wasn’t my scene. It wasn’t even completely my cup of tea - I’m more of a countryside person when it comes down to it - but when we stood on the peak of the mountain you took me to hike on a whim, I had decidedly told myself that I would follow you to the ends of the world and regret not a single moment of the journey. 

“I love you, Timmy,” you told me as you held me around my waist, your cheek pressed against my temple. “I wish I could be better at letting you know just how much.” 

Without fail, that would always make me stay. You, loving me. I can never seem to get enough of the feeling that flooded me with just the knowledge that you did. 

“You can start by preferring bagels for breakfast.” I joked, if only to abate the nagging threat at the back of my head. 

You chuckled and swayed me a little. “I mean, could be better.” 

“Lies, all lies.” 

“You talk like you’re actually up in the morning.” 

“I found only recently that I can be persuaded.” 

“Oh shut up,” you released me and moved to tickle my flanks that I folded and eventually collapsed on the grass. 

“Stop - ah, Armie, wait - stop,” I kept swatting your hard and kicking my legs, but who would take my protests seriously when I giggled and yelped like a teenager. “This is  _ not _ how I should be loved.” 

“You’re right.” You conceded easily, stopping all at once then flipping us so I was on my back and you hovering over me. 

“You have the right idea,” I told you as I craned my neck up, seeking a kiss. 

Your eyes looking into mine and your smile that was directed only to me. Of course there hadn’t been any doubt in my head that you loved me. It was never that. Everything else, but never you, never us. 

It would’ve ended and started everything all at once for us had anyone walked by at the wrong moment. We barely had anything to cover ourselves with, barely anything with us to make it slightly more convenient, but of course we’d found a way. Despite the warmth of the sun and the layers still on my skin I had shuddered with your lips still latched on my neck, feeling you tremble beneath me as we rode out the release and welcomed its afterglow. 

“I’ve been bringing up divorce.” You mentioned when the haze had barely cleared. 

It was supposed to be relieving news, but somehow my brain took it as the other shoe dropping, and my heart sank as I filled with inexplicable dread. “Hush, you. You can’t say things like that after we dry humped like virgins.” 

You guwaffed then shoved me, reaching for a cloth to wipe us with. “You’re unbelievable.” 

It was never brought up again, but I weighed the implications of it for days, weeks, months. I wondered how far along you’ve considered. Your brother knew, and he hadn’t approved initially until he realized that there was only this. Apart from him, no one else knew from your family. Liz had more people into it than we were both comfortable with, but we’d chosen to indulge her if it meant maintaining a sliver of peace within our already dysfunctional dynamic. 

Maybe that had been where I was wrong. I should’ve pushed. I should’ve asked. I should’ve applied pressure. Instead, I let it take its course, and I never once considered that you would have wanted to know that I was, without question, by your side on every step of the way. I never considered my presence imperative to your courage, and that was a longstanding regret of mine that I had given you the impression that I was indifferent to your efforts. I hadn’t been. What I was was simply grateful for what little I could be spared in our arrangement. Though at times we were marionettes on taut strings I had still resorted to cherish the fact that I remained in your heart and in your life. 

What convinced me to believe so was that you were slowly breaking away from your constant fear of being caught. You had run your mouth more times than our PR team could handle, but away from the camera you had never advertised it. I had thought initially that it was only a casual date, or a professional meeting, until I walked in on a photoshoot for GQ and realized what you had done. I should’ve known then, but I had fears of my own, specifically of the previous falling outs that involved these very same prying eyes that you were suddenly subjecting our relationship under. Easily, as usual, I was carried away by your gall and eagerness that I had allowed anything you thought you’d wanted. 

That had alerted Liz, and she felt the need to initially moderate the official public documentation of events until she decided to pack up and find a hobby of her own. It meant that the children would receive, directly or not, the trickling repercussions of all that we’d collectively done in relation to one another. Despite everything, Liz had been most secure in being a mother, to the extent that she’d never truly antagonized any of my attempts to befriend Harper and Ford. It was startling, and all the while I had waited for a landmine to blow but it never came. In the long run, she didn’t have to. You had stepped in most times when Liz had been elsewhere, and  _ that _ was often. I didn’t mind it one bit. It was definitely weird to be the uncle who sneaked around the house to steal a kiss or two, but minimal inconveniences, and so naturally, we were given a major one. 

I had come face to face with your father one morning as he stood in the living room. I had no idea he just casually sauntered in and out of your family property, but that was probably to be expected if the parents had to be away for work or another often. 

“You’re a babysitter?” Your father asked me, and it took a solid year before I could finally laugh at the memory. Back then, I was frozen in shock and horrified by your reaction, which I knew was to come sooner than I could prepare myself for. 

“Co-worker, actually,” I corrected, and then instantly realized I should’ve let it be. 

He looked at me, really looked, then his passive stare morphed slowly to hostility. “And do you frequent the homes of your co-workers that they share with their wives and children?” 

“Only that of my closest friends,” I replied, surprising myself with how steady I sounded. 

“And you think that means you’re welcome in?” 

“I was  _ invited _ in, actually.” 

Those were the series of mistakes that started our day, and the tension in the air remained so palpable that the children subconsciously picked up on it and resulted in them throwing multiple tantrums and meltdowns before noon. He left around midday,and then we had just decided to occupy ourselves with chores so we didn’t risk a fight in front of the children. I had taken it upon myself to decide to sleep on the couch rather than in the guest bedroom that we shared. You had realized that I wasn’t just held back by work and intentionally had no plan of coming to bed with you around midnight, so you showed up with pillows and a blanket tucked under each arm then huffily tossed everything on the carpet. 

“Scoot over,” you ordered, annoyed. 

It wasn’t the right time, so it had mustered up all the training I had to suppress my laughter. “We won’t fit.” 

“I don’t give a shit. Move,” 

“This will kill our necks.” 

“Shut up. This was your idea.” 

“I was trying to give you space.” 

“Yeah? And this is my answer. Deal with it.” 

No matter how lighthearted you tried to make it look, your following actions still did nothing to hide that you had received more blows than you were willing to show me. I scarcely heard from you, and physically meeting with you became few and far between. Subsequently, I had received a flood of demands to be in public with Lily, which she had gone along with but not without taking her time to tease me for it. 

“What did you two do?” She asked accusingly as we walked down the street, still bleary-eyed from the long travel only to be thrown right in front of flashing cameras. 

I sighed, apologetic, then handed her a cup of coffee as if it’ll make it better. “His father saw me.” 

“Oh my God, you’re dumber than you look.” 

“Facts.” 

“I bet you said you’re a co-worker.” 

I burst out laughing. That was a good shot, no matter what it took to get it out of us. 

At the very least, we shared a working friendship between us. That was again given emphasis when you all but nearly disappeared on me for a time, always dismissive or rejecting outright my requests to meet. You told me to give you a little more time, to trust you, and I already did before you even asked, though I would’ve liked even just a word or two of explanation behind it. It had started to worry me, and then even more when I began catching notifications from your friends; the ones who weren’t Viktor or Nick, but not once did you entertain my calls. 

Instead, it’s Nick who reached out to me late one night while I was away in Europe. I watched his name on my phone screen for a good couple of moments before I took a deep breath and slid it to answer. 

“How are you holding up?” He asked solemnly. 

I swallowed, terrified that it was a trap, even more unprepared to receive some bad news. “There’s work to keep me busy, so yeah.” 

“Can you do it a little while longer?” Nick didn’t sound as ominous as I judged the situation to be, but I couldn’t trust that feeling when all my instinct pointed to the opposite. 

“What choice do I have?” I retorted, crossing my arms across my chest as I looked out the window. 

“Tim,” he huffed, chuckling. I imagined he was shaking his head fondly. “It’s all chaos out here. It’s Armie’s responsibility to tell you, but he’s just about going insane and will definitely need therapy.” 

I straightened, alarmed. I never imagined it to have spiralled that way. “What happened?” 

“Divorce, most likely. He moved out.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last left! It'll likely follow late 2019 to the present, then I'm contemplating if I can push my luck and make an epilogue. Yeah, I know the storytelling is ambiguous. I imagined Timmy writing this in like, a decade from now and he just didn't have it in him to bring in every single detail. Or maybe I'm fishing for excuses because I can't pull the threads together myself. 
> 
> Anyhow, I'll see you on the third chapter! (Do let me know of any corrections, lmao. Now that I had to write about canon, the details are pretty dizzying.)


End file.
